


Soulmates in Paint

by ironarm



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: College AU, First Kiss, Fluff, LMAO, M/M, Sexual Themes, Soulmate AU, artist!richie, eddie sucks at art, mostly richie, they cant see colour until they touch their soulmates skin basically, they just say stupid stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 22:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13152951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironarm/pseuds/ironarm
Summary: Eddie just wants to hand in his art project, Richie wants to get his number, and apparently, soulmates are a thing.





	Soulmates in Paint

**Author's Note:**

> There's gonna be grammar mistakes cause I suck, lmao. But I hope you all enjoy!!!

It wasn’t Eddie’s fault - well, it kind of was, but he wouldn’t admit it.

So, when he woke up at nine in the morning, already thirty minutes late to his class, hungover, his hair tangled, and his art project still drying from last nights extravaganzas, he muttered a small, _“fuck.”_

Instead of contemplating on whether it was okay for him to fail the class and just give up, all Eddie did was grab a pair of sweatpants, slip them on, grab his backpack, grab his art project and rush his way towards the door; a small piece of toast hanging from his lips. 

It also wasn’t his fault that his head was throbbing, the number _“21”_ flashing inside his head, letting him know he was going to meet his soulmate today. 

_That he was finally going to see colour._

He was finally going to experience how it felt to say _“oh”_ when the sky turned from blue to a vivid orange. Something Stan did when he touched Mike’s hand when he was walking home from work.

Eddie always heard it was something unexpected. That you would meet your soulmate, that it would be magical, that you would want to kiss them the second you guys had skin to skin contact and it finally felt _like you were alive._

He wasn’t so sure about that, really. All Eddie was sure about was that his painting was still drying, and he was rushing to class, hoping he made it in time.

Though he should have known his luck, as he bumped into another guy, who had black curly untamed hair, a fashion sense that was so unexplainable, Eddie didn’t know what to say.

Instead, he mumbled slash yelled, _“What the fuck man, watch where you’re going,”_ when he bumped into him, making him drop his painting and in return, the guy’s books. 

Instead of bending down and retrieving the books that were scattered about the floor, the boy laughed, “What the fuck do you mean watch where - wait, fuck, you’re cute,” the guy mumbled out, his eyes widening and a blush spreading across his cheeks. 

Eddie blushed in return, stopped, and then narrowed his eyes, “Shut up, it was your fault, couldn’t you see where you were going?”

“Couldn’t. Fate had to make me bump into you,” the boy replied, a grin set on his lips. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m doing you a fucking favour. That painting looks tragic from where I can see it right now.”

Eddie really wanted to kill him, “Fuck you,” Eddie said, his fists clenched, his jaw in a tight grip. Even though he was cute, Eddie was really contemplating murder. 

“Hey, listen. I can help you fix it, I’m an art major myself,” the boy raised his hands, “I just mean it from an artist’s point of view.” 

“I don’t need your help.”

“I really think you do. You might be fucking cute, but your art is terrible.”“How the fuck do I know if you’re a good artist?” 

“Pick a book from the floor and see for yourself,” the guy said, pointing to a sketchbook on the floor. 

Eddie bent down, picked it up, and flipped it open. 

_He wanted to take his words back.  
_

_He really did._

Though, his pride kind of took over because he realized how much fucking worse his painting was. Eddie knew he wasn’t a good artist, hell, he barely knew how to place a canvas right - he dropped it seven times when he had first tried. He knew the only reason he took this class was because Stan said he had no creativity in him and Eddie wanted to prove him wrong - so really, it was that fucker’s fault that Eddie was where he was right now.

“Okay, so, let’s say you do end up helping me. My class is right now and the project is due by six, which is in two fucking hours by the way. Also, what the hell do you want in return?” 

“Let’s make a deal.” 

“I’m not doing you any sexual favors.” 

“Damn, I was hoping to get into your mom’s pants.” 

“What the fuck, dude, that’s so gross,” Eddie replied back, his nose crinkling up in return. 

The boy laughed, “I’m kidding, maybe. Here, I’ll help fix your project, and in return, you give me your number so I can take you out on a date.” 

“You do know that there are such things as soulmates, right?”

“And I didn’t meet mine, and you didn’t meet yours, right?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, cautiously. 

“So, what’s the harm? We go out on a date, everything’s great.” 

“How do you know if I’m interested in boys?” 

“You didn’t say anything the second I said that you were cute, instead you fucking blushed,” the boy said, shrugging, and then grinned. “So, I think you want to get in my pants as much as I want to get into yours.” 

“I just want you to fix my painting, asshole. That’s it,” Eddie said, scowling. He might be right, but Eddie didn’t want him to know that.

“I can do that too,” the boy said, bending down to retrieve the painting and his books. He held the painting in one hand and his books under his other arm; then looked towards Eddie. “Now, are we going back to your apartment?” 

Eddie’s eyes widened, “What the fuck, why?”

“That’s where you keep your supplies, right?” 

“We can go to the art building for that too, you asshole.” 

The boy shrugged, and pointed towards the art building, “Lead the way, cutie.” 

Eddie really wanted to kill him.

It had been an hour and a half, and all Richie - which Eddie later found out was his name - had done was pick up the bottles, labeled their colours, and started a new one. 

He just threw Eddie’s painting in the trash. _That fucker._

“My painting’s due in thirty minutes.” 

“I know, spaghetti,” Richie said, Eddie swearing he could hear the grin in his voice. That bastard. The second Richie figured out his name, Eddie went from _Eddie to Eds_. Then, from _Eds to Eddie Spaghetti_. Now, in order for Richie to save time to dick around instead of helping him, _Eddie is just Spaghetti._

Eddie kind of wanted to punch him. Or maybe kiss him, he wasn’t sure yet. All he knew was that he wanted to touch the boy, but he didn’t know why he wanted to touch him - he guessed he wanted to touch his hands, they did look soft. 

_Who the hell was Eddie kidding, they looked skilled._

“Do you even know what my original painting was?” 

“It was hands in a black mass, right?” 

“Yeah, those are the only colours I can tell apart.” 

“It’s okay, I understand. I added a little white into the black mass, so it’s going to look like a sky instead.” 

“That’s fine,” Eddie said, clearing his throat. “Thank you.” 

“Eds, I’m getting your number at the end of this, I should be the one thanking you. You’re practically letting me into your pants.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Richie.”

Richie laughed and then cleared his throat, “I’m done anyways.” He stood up, grabbed a cloth and started wiping his hands on it, making sure the paint on his fingers was coming off. 

_“Oh,”_ Eddie said, disappointment sneaking its way into his tone. 

“I did your painting though, so, my end of our little deal is done.” 

“And now you want my number, I guess?” Eddie grinned. his tone setting into a fond one. _Richie was intoxicating, really._

Richie grinned in return, “Yes, darling, I want your number.” Eddie nodded, too choked up to reply. He went to his backpack, pulled out a sticky note, a pencil and wrote his number on it. 

_His heart was beating.  
_

_Beating like crazy._

But he walked back towards Richie, and moved his hand out to slip Richie the piece of paper.

“Can I get a kiss with it, sweet-cakes? A little one, we can save the real smooching for later,” Richie smirked. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Eddie said and smiled softly. He stood a little up on his toes and pressed a soft kiss to Richie’s cheek. 

And really, Eddie should have guessed it. He really should have fucking guessed it because the second Eddie moved his lips away from Richie’s cheek, colour slowly started forming. 

There were a million theories and stories that Eddie heard that would describe how you felt when you saw colour. Though, Eddie didn’t know what theory could have explained how Eddie felt when Richie’s eyes took the form of a dark color, not intimidating, but warm and inviting. His hair even darker, and his lips - Eddie guessed it was only pink, that’s what he heard anyways. 

Sure, Eddie thought Richie was beautiful before, _Eddie thought he was mesmerizing now._

“How about you kiss me on the lips now, Eds?” Richie asked softly, moving closer to Eddie, his arms snaking around Eddie’s waist.

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Yeah,“ Richie replied back in a low voice, moving down a bit and brushing their noses together. They didn’t notice who moved first, but their mouths came together, soft, wet, pliant and sweeter than any kiss had the right to be. Eddie ached with it, all the way down to his toes, whimpered, grabbed a handful of Richie’s hair, and tried to act like he wasn’t absolutely fucking drowning. 

They pulled apart, softly gasping for air, and Eddie laughed. 

“I’m so getting into your pants tonight.” 

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes, “Way to ruin it, you fuckface.”

**Author's Note:**

> I really hoped you guys liked this!! come talk to me on tumblr, @stansbill


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